Bloggers must be like buses, you wait for ages and then two come along.
On Sunday I met my first ever Real Life Blogger! Well, two actually. I met Anna. Anna writes Anna of the Mutton Years, a life blog, and Mutton Years Style and I, a style blog which she calls her boring blog but which isn't at all, of course. So, I met Anna and got a sort of 2 for 1 deal.
Allow me to introduce you to Anna. Isn't she lovely? We got on just great from the word "go go go". OK, that's three words.
She and I have been to and fro-ing over our blogs for some weeks and when we found that we wouldn't be too great a distance from each other in Sussex, we arranged a meet in Lewes on a glorious sunny autumn Sunday.
Lewes is a fine old Sussex town. We met up at the station and with introductions over, we quickly formed a plan. First, a walk from the station up to the main part of the town.
The town is set on a hill. It gives you quite a work out! I took this whilst sneaking in a breather!
I have absolutely no idea what this is, but I liked it.
Oh, this is kinda embarrassing. The Photographer has just told me that this is "arguably the oldest Norman round tower church in Sussex". I guess not a lot of people know that. This Pout didn't.
Our first port of call was the Anne of Cleves House. She lived here after her split with Henry VIII. The property gives a glimpse into life in Tudor and Elizabethan times. I'll now pass over to my pics to do the talking (mostly).
A well worn path to the kitchen's range.
A fine table made from Sussex marble.
The property also housed a fine display of relics from the town's past and also that of the surrounding rural area.
Ye olde washing machine! The thing was rocked back and forth to swish up the water which was later drained out through a plughole in the bottom.
A local doctor, Mantell, discovered a very large leg bone back in the 1800s, which led to the excavation of many more large bones identified as those of a prehistoric dinosaur. Here is a cast of a dinosaur footprint.
Photos of men working very hard in the fields.
Canon-boring. There was a foundry in the town.
And here a depiction of men working hard again, poor things, this time in a water-driven foundry.
I paused for a moment to think of the hard graft my ancestors would have invariably endured to allow me to be sitting here in my turret typing today. Humbling, eh?
We finished our journey through time in a dining room. The oak table had a superb patina and in the corner you can see one of the first day-beds, devised by a Lady whose name I forget. Sorry, Lady.
Most of the windows had been replaced and set in new oak, but this one remained intact and showed such history, such years of use.
We then moved on to Lewes Castle. Well, in all honesty, we circumnavigated the castle but couldn't quite find the entrance. Must have been one of the cunning defence techniques devised by the castle's architect. Or just our ineptitude! So this was the point when we put the idea of more culture on to a convenient backburner. Time for a glass of wine!
And this is also where it gets a bit vague. No sooner was the idea implanted in our blogging brains, we found ourselves seated on a super roof terrace overlooking the fine countryside, a crisp Sauvignon Blanc in my hand and a Pimms (number unknown) in Anna's. And I can't for the life of me quite remember the hostelry's name. Possibly The King's Head, but please don't hold me to that. I lost track of detail, and that is so not me! But I do know that we chatted away the time, listening to superb live guitar wafting from inside the conservatory restaurant behind us. And our noses and our tummies soon led us into said restaurant.
And now the food shot. I ate turkey with all the trimmings from their fine carvery. Washed down with more white, of course.
Our menfolk talked of being chased by pigs and quoted whole verses from Dire Straits' Romeo and Juliet. Anna and I talked about blogging and blogs we like. And credit default swaps. Surreal, eh?
And once fed and watered, we were hungry for more culture, so moved on to Lewes Castle. And that, dear reader, will have to wait, because I think Anna and I have taken up enough of your very precious time for today.
A la perchoine.